


This History of Us: Angoisse

by Daisy Gamgee (DaisyGamgee)



Series: The History of Us [6]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:31:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyGamgee/pseuds/Daisy%20Gamgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry is 24, Pippin is 16, and Merry won't take advantage of a child. So what's a sexually mature Hobbit to do? </p>
<p>This isn't as cute as earlier installments. Actually, it isn't cute at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This History of Us: Angoisse

He rolled off Merry with a grunt. Merry sighed, satisfied, and relaxed, collapsing heavily onto his belly. "That was good," he murmured into the pillow.

He coughed, trying to catch his breath. "Very good."

"What time do you suppose it is?" Merry propped himself on his arms, squinting toward the windows. The inn's lanterns broke the darkness outside, and Merry couldn't see the moon for the smoky glow.

"Not midnight yet." He sat up and pulled on his trousers. "I need to get home to the wife. She'll be worriting soon."

"Tell her I said hello." Merry rolled to his side, away from prying eyes, and pulled the blanket up to cover his cooling skin.

"You're very funny," he said, buttoning his shirt. When he was dressed, he leaned over and touched his lips to Merry's shoulder. "No goodbye kiss?"

"We talked about this," Merry answered simply. He suddenly wished he'd stayed home tonight, and closed his eyes.

"Of course." The mattress sprang back slowly when he stood. "Well. Good night."

"Good night." Merry remained still until the door closed and footsteps were gone, then he sat up slowly and ran his hands through his hair. The loneliness, afterwards, was terrible and cold, and he saddened deeply, wondering if it would always be like this. To have such pleasure, then such emptiness: it was almost more than he could bear.

Merry was grateful that the inn had a side entrance to the sleeping rooms, and he slipped out into the evening chill with a shiver. He brightened a bit at the thought of his own warm bed at home and hastened his pace along the dirt road.

His bedroom was off the second front door; he hung his cloak on the peg next to Pippin's and headed to the bathroom to soak off the smoke and sweat and scent of another on his skin.

He emerged from the bath with a lighter heart, and whistled softly as he opened his bedroom door, throwing his towel over the wooden chair by the dresser.

"Where were you?"

Merry startled. "Gor, Pippin, you scared me senseless."

"Where were you?" The voice was quavering; with anger or worry, Merry couldn't tell.

"I had a bath." Merry got a fresh nightshirt from the dresser. "You should be asleep." He pulled the shirt over his head, grateful for the smell of soap and fresh breezes in the fabric.

"Where. Were. You."

Merry turned toward the voice. Pippin wasn't in the bed, as he'd thought, but was instead sitting cross-legged in the big armchair by the fireside. The fire had burned down, but Pippin had lit a candle on the mantelpiece, now more than halfway gone, wax pooling at its base. Merry could see angry eyes gleaming in the faint light.

"You were here when I went to bed. I woke up. I came in. You were gone. For a long time. Now you're here. Where were you?"

Merry sighed. "I went to the inn for an ale." He went to the washstand and looked into the empty ewer. "Do you want water?"

"I want an honest answer. You could have had an ale here with me." His voice broke on the last word.

Merry paused, hand poised over the ewer handle. "No, honey," he said heavily. "I couldn't."

"You could," Pippin insisted. "I'd give you what you need, Merry. I'd give you anything if you let me."

"No, honey," he said again, and picked up the ewer. "I'll get water."

"Who was he?" Pippin dragged his sleeve across his face, and Merry had to close his eyes for a moment to shut out his pain.

"No one," Merry answered. "No one you know, or need to worry over. No one."

"Is he handsome?"

"No, love."

"Did you kiss him?"

"No, love."

"I don't want you to kiss anybody but me."

"I know, sweetheart."

Pippin cast his eyes to the floor, snuffling with old tears, shed before Merry had come home. "Did you hold him, after?"

Merry set the ewer down, and turned toward Pippin. "No, sweetheart."

"Did you tell him you love him?"

Merry moved to the chair, feeling Pippin's anguish more with each step, and laid his hand on Pippin's cheek. "No, dearest one." Merry knelt before Pippin and took his hands with a gentle squeeze. "I'll never say that to anyone but you."

"Say it now."

Merry smiled softly and kissed Pippin's palms. "I love you, my own."

"Say it with my name." Pippin trembled and his fingers felt cold in Merry's hands. "Say it with my name and kiss me."

Merry crawled into the chair with Pippin and lifted him, settling him across his lap, and held him tight. "Peregrin Took. Sweet Pippin. I love you, Pip." He covered Pippin's lips with his own, catching a cry in his mouth, and let their tongues touch lightly for a moment before pulling away.

Pippin buried his face in Merry's neck, hot tears escaping to roll into Merry's collar. "I love you so, Merry. Please don't go to the inn late at night anymore. Oh, please. I can't bear it." His shoulders shook and his fingers dug into Merry's ribs. "Please. I'll give myself to you, I will, if you'll not go again."

Merry's heart broke into a hundred jagged pieces and he hugged Pippin tighter. "No, precious."

Pippin's tears became sobs, and he curled himself into Merry as closely as he could; his fingers clutched the fabric of Merry's nightshirt so hard that it nearly ripped. "Oh, please, Merry, please. Don't go. Don't go."

"Hush, precious." Merry rocked gently and stroked Pippin's hair, pulling silken curls through his fingers. "All will be well. I love you. Only you, ever, ever. Ssshh, love."

Pippin's sobs eased and his hands released their desperate grip. Merry rocked him until he felt slow, steady breaths on his neck. He shifted, setting his feet on the floor, and lifted Pippin with an effort. Merry carried him to the door and bent to reach the knob.

"No." Pippin's hand stayed Merry's. "I'll not get back to sleep without you beside me."

Merry turned with a deep breath and deposited Pippin gently on his bed, and turned down the blankets, gesturing for Pippin to get under the covers. He gazed at Pippin's flushed, tear-stained face, and thought him inexpressibly beautiful. Merry brushed the disheveled hair from Pippin's brow and kissed it. "You'll be the end of me, boy," he said, and laid down beside him, burrowing into the mattress.

"Does he love you?"

Merry sighed. He'd hoped the conversation was over, but it wouldn't be, not really, until the need for it had ended. Merry cursed his luck at having been born eight years too soon. "No, of course not, sweetness."

"How could he not love you?" Pippin scrubbed at his eyes with his fists. "How could he lay with you, and not love you?"

Merry caressed Pippin's hair. "I don't love him, Pip. He doesn't love me. It's just…just nothing," he said with a frown.

"Then don't go. Don't go, because I love you. Don't go, because you love me." Pippin rolled and tucked himself into Merry's warmth. "You don't need to go. You can have what you want at home."

"Curse it, Pip," Merry muttered, suddenly angry. "What I want is to sleep."

Pippin sniffled wetly but said no more, and soon Merry felt his arms go limp and head soft, steady snoring against his chest. He closed his eyes and cradled Pippin close as he drifted off.

**

Merry looked over the top of his mug when the door opened. Not yet: it was one of the Boffin boys, already into his cups by the look of him. Merry smiled and shook his head, hearing the laughter with which the lad was greeted. Clearly his mates had expected him.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd make it tonight." The familiar voice at his elbow caught him off guard and Merry's ale sloshed gently.

"Took me a good while to get out of the house," Merry answered, with a glance to the hobbit at his left. Merry had lied to Pippin: he was handsome, with his light brown eyes and high cheekbones, and his hair was almost the same color as Pippin's near-auburn curls.

"I've taken the third room on the right," he whispered. "Just knock twice." He left to exchange greetings with the Boffin boy, then slipped discreetly into the corridor.

Merry finished his ale and waved away the barmaid when she came around with the pitcher, then stood and handed her the coppers he owed for his ale, plus more than the girl had expected in change. She smiled broadly and winked. Merry smiled in return and shook his head; she shrugged and moved on, keeping the change all the same.

He waited until the room's full attention was focused on a loud, ridiculous Boffin tale about an ancestor's journey into the Old Forest, and walked casually to the curtained side door and into the hall.

Two sharp knocks and the door opened. Merry slipped inside and bolted the door behind him, leaning against it.

He had waited on the edge of the bed, shirt off and draped over a chair. Merry's pulse quickened and he made himself look toward the window instead.

"What are you doing all the way over there?" The voice was smooth and cool and appealing, like strawberry wine on a summer's night, and Merry smiled despite himself.

"I'm not staying," Merry said with an apologetic shrug. "I just came to tell you that I won't be seeing you like this anymore." He bit his lip and looked at the attractive face and strong shoulders with a soft pang of regret.

"Oh." He sat up straighter and frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'll miss…" His voice trailed off and he looked at his hands. "Have I done something to offend you?"

"No. No, not at all. This has nothing to do with you, really, I just need to stay home, now."

His eyebrow raised. "With your baby beloved? He's still a mite young, don't you think?" He pulled his shirt off the chair with a snap. "Or have you changed your mind about that, as well?"

Merry sighed. "I'm sorry. I am. I've enjoyed your company." He let many things go unsaid, and they hung in the air like tarnished starlight on a dense, foggy night. "But I'm causing him pain by seeing you, and I just can't bear to do that anymore."

"I see." He buttoned his shirt and frowned, looking away.

"I'll pay for the room."

"No, never mind, I've taken care of it." He looked up at Merry, gazing thoughtfully. "You're sure."

"Yes." Merry turned, then looked back. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He laughed then. "Truly. Don't ever mention it."

"I won't." Merry left the room and expelled a long breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

The fire was still burning in the hearth in his bedroom; he could see the shifting light under the door. Merry turned the knob and went in.

"Oh." Pippin looked up from the fire, surprised to see him, then glowered. "That didn't take much time."

"How long have you been sitting vigil for me?" Merry took off his weskit and folded it carefully, setting it on the dresser, then quickly exchanged his other clothes for his nightshirt, feeling oddly self-conscious in Pippin's presence.

"If you mean how long have I been waiting," Pippin said with a frown, "since I heard you leave." He shifted unhappily in the chair and examined the hem of his sleeve. "About an hour."

"Ah." Merry walked to the chair and gestured for Pippin to make room. Pippin moved over and sighed when Merry sat close to him, lowering his head and twisting his hands together. Merry wrapped his arms around Pippin and kissed his hair, damp from a bath and smelling of chamomile soap. "I told him I won't be seeing him anymore."

"Before or after?" Pippin asked sharply.

"Instead of." Merry hugged him closer. "And then I came home to hold you and tell you I love you."

Pippin was quiet, thinking this over, then lifted Merry's chin and looked deeply into his eyes. "You did," he said in wonder. "You truly did." His eyes sparkled like emeralds in the firelight.

Merry nodded and kissed Pippin's nose. "So hug me tight and tell me you love me, too."

"Oh, Merry," Pippin sighed. "Oh, I love you so, so much." He entangled himself in Merry's arms and legs and tipped his head back. "Kiss me."

"No, precious." Merry smiled. "You kiss me."

Pippin blinked in surprise, but complied with enthusiasm, and Merry threaded his fingers into Pippin's hair and pulled him closer.

"Stop, stop," Merry said after a while, breaking the kiss. "You're getting much too good at this." He bit lightly at Pippin's lower lip. "Now skip on back to your own bed while you still may."

"No. I don't want to." Pippin smiled happily at Merry through his lashes.

"Yes. You do." Merry stood and took Pippin's hand, leading him to the door.

"Tuck me in?" Pippin asked.

"Of course."

"Tell me a bedtime story?"

Merry laughed heartily. "Oh, no. Not until you're much, much older." He swatted Pippin's rump and took him in to bed.

@@@ END @@@


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